There’s a small, stubborn ache in me when I think about this.

I loved Pokémon as a kid. The games were constant joy. The anime was ritual. The world felt safe and magical and entirely mine.

But when it came to the Trading Card Game?

I stayed quiet.

I bought packs here and there. Secretly. Slipped into a backpack. Opened in private. Hidden between notebooks.

Because the girls at my school collected Sailor Moon cards.

And I loved Sailor Moon too. I still do. I still have every single one of those cards. I displayed them proudly. We traded. We compared. We bonded.

But Pokémon cards?

Those were “for boys.”

Or at least that’s what I was made to feel.

‘Why are you buying those?’
‘That’s weird.’
‘That’s not what we collect.’

It wasn’t dramatic bullying. It was quieter than that. Social pressure. Side-eyes. The slow erosion of enthusiasm.

And I let it work.

I wish I hadn’t.

I wish I had told them to go fuck themselves.

The Collector I Would Have Been

If I had given myself permission back then?

Oh, I would have been insufferable.

I would have organized everything by type.
I would have hoarded Eevees.
I would have built entire binders around evolution lines.
I would have memorized card text.
I would have known which holo patterns were rarer.

I probably wouldn’t have played competitively. I’ve always been more narrative than meta. But I would have built decks around Pokémon I loved instead of the strongest ones.

I would have been the kid with a very serious binder and a very unserious theme.

I would have been proud.

Instead, I tucked that part of myself away.

What Adult Me Does Differently

Here’s the thing.

When I found the TCG in my 40s, something snapped back into place.

This time, I didn’t hide it.

I talk about it publicly.
I build decks.
I organize binders with intention.
I obsess over pull rates.
I make content about it.

And if someone thinks it’s weird?

That’s their problem.

Adult me doesn’t shrink for approval the way younger me did.

Adult me buys the Eevee binder.
Adult me plays at league.
Adult me gets excited over illustration rares.

There’s something incredibly healing about that.

Because it’s not just collecting cards.

It’s reclaiming something I muted.

The Joy of Discovering Something “Late”

Sometimes I think about what my collection could have been.

Base set holos. Early promos. Childhood pulls with stories attached.

And yes — there’s regret there.

But there’s also something unexpectedly beautiful about discovering the TCG now.

I approach it with intention.
With patience.
With financial awareness.
With emotional clarity.

I’m not chasing popularity.

I’m building meaning.

And in some ways, that feels more powerful.

Because this time, I’m choosing it consciously.

Reclaiming the Things You Loved

There’s something deeply comforting about reclaiming childhood joy as an adult.

Especially if you once felt like you had to hide it.

Especially if you were told it didn’t fit who you were supposed to be.

Especially if you were a girl who liked Pokémon cards and got subtly nudged toward something else.

I love Sailor Moon.

And I love Pokémon.

And I never should have had to choose.

If I had played the TCG as a kid, I would have been proud and loud and obsessive in the best way.

So now?

I am.

Not because I never grew up.

But because I stopped letting other people decide what was acceptable joy.

And honestly?

That feels better than any vintage holo ever could.